


Magpie's Hoard

by magpiesandmabari



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpiesandmabari/pseuds/magpiesandmabari
Summary: One-shots/shortfic from Tumblr prompts.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> From the 'I found you...' OTP prompt list.
> 
> 30\. I found you…trying on your favourite outfit, air escaping from my lungs in wonder.
> 
> King!Alistair and Mistress Surana reunited after her adventures in Amaranthine <3

He wakes and finds the space beside him empty, bed neatly made but still warm where she’d been sleeping soundly in his arms, exhausted by their reunion on her return from Amaranthine last night. Almost a year and a half, she’s been gone. The palace feeling empty and foreboding without her at his side.

It’s almost as painful to find her missing now.

The curtains are drawn around the bed, though a sliver of light cuts through, flickering as a shadow passes by and he smiles to himself when he hears the familiar clicking of heeled boots on stone.

In his eagerness to meet her, he sits up too fast; the “gift” she’d brought back to him at Oghren’s insistence, making its’ presence known with a dizzying rush that makes him fall back on his elbows.

Some things never change.

How the lightweight has managed to scrape herself out of bed when usually she’s giddy from a single sip of brandy, while he’s struggling to keep himself upright is a new one on him, however.

Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself up into a slump, rubbing his forehead gingerly. And here comes the inevitable headache.  _Wonderful._

Still, it’s worth the pain, just to see her here again.

He shuffles to the foot of the bed and with a wince, throws the curtains wide. The sudden light burns his dry eyes, making him turn away for a moment. But once he’s accustomed to it, he looks up and is greeted by the most glorious sight.

She’s stood by the long mirror mounted on the wall beside the armoire, surveying herself. She’s always meticulous about her appearance at court, not wishing to give anyone reason to fault her; not even a single hair allowed out of place.

And today is no exception.

She is  _exquisite_ , dressed in the tight, slinky black velvet she always favours; high collar and long sleeves but with a lattice cut out on the back to offer a tantalising glimpse of the bare flesh beneath. A hammered gold belt loose on her hips and bracelets at her wrists, jingling lightly with every move she makes and glittering in the morning sun.

Already it seems to lift her confidence, head held high as she finally regards herself with a nod of approval and a satisfied smile, smoothing a non-existent crease on her hip.

He lets out the breath he’s been holding, sighing wistfully and she turns to face him, the smile widening.

_She’s home._


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the 'I found you...' OTP prompt list.
> 
> 44\. I found you…baking pastries for me.
> 
> Or, what I like to call, the ultimate wish fulfillment fantasy. Tooth-achingly sweet fluff from my favourite Grey Warden power couple and their growing family.

It’s with groggy, slow steps that she makes her way downstairs. He’d insisted that she stay in bed and rest, but the little one is not having any of it. She’d much prefer to have company, if she’s to be kept up like this.

But on reaching the foot of the staircase, she pauses. She can hear clattering in the kitchen, conspiratorial whispers and the familiar, mischievous giggle of their daughter. There’s a pleasantly sweet smell in the air too; like honey and cinnamon.

Doing her best to remain inconspicuous- no mean feat when eight months pregnant and forever at risk of being unbalanced by the weight of her heavy belly (why she had to marry a bloody great bear of a man like him she’ll never know)- she peers around the corner and feels the weariness immediately lift.

Side by side, Alistair and Róisín are working dutifully at the table, rolling dough flat and cutting it into rounds. Well, he’s doing most of the work while Rosie beats the pastry into submission with a rolling pin, but it’s the thought that counts. 

The lid of the pot on the spit starts to rattle, steam rising in great white plumes.

He quickly hurries over to open it up, hand guarded by the cloth he takes from the mantle, peering inside and seems satisfied with what he finds. The scent wafts over to her and she realises what’s inside; it has to be the filling for the apple tarts she’d mentioned craving the other day. It was only an offhand remark made while complaining about her poor appetite but as usual, he took it to heart.

Another rush of affection flows through her, escaping as a wistful sigh. He’s always so good to her; attentive and kind even after all these years.

He beckons his little girl over to him, who drops down from her perch with all the grace of a newborn foal and stands expectantly by her father while he stirs the mix with a spoon. Little hands wave impatiently when he takes a morsel out to taste, but he shakes his head, laughing gently at her pouting when refused.

Yana, too, has to stifle a giggle, leaning against the beam as she watches them fondly.

“You’ll burn your mouth, petal. Just wait.” He cools it with a few deliberate breaths, touching it to his lip to check the temperature then moves to crouch beside her and hands her the spoon, which she immediately snatches up and licks clean.

“What do you think?”

Rosie looks thoughtful, examining the spoon for any leftovers and when she finds none, nods enthusiastically. “Good!”

“You reckon Mama will like it?”

Another firm nod. He grins, reaching out to nudge her cheek with a knuckle before straightening up to take the pot off the fire and sets it on a heavy trivet on the table, Rosie watching with keen interest as she hops back up onto her stool.

“We’ll have to let it cool down before we can make the pies,” He explains when she raises the spoon in readiness. “Shall we go see how your mother’s doing in the meantime?”

She answers him by standing on the stool, arms outstretched. He gathers her up in his, peppering her face with kisses; making her cackle with glee while she hugs his neck. Yana takes this as her cue to leave, hurrying back up the stairs as fast as her swollen ankles will allow, diving under the bedclothes just as Alistair and Róisín come into the room.

She feigns waking, smiling sleepily when Rosie clambers onto the bed to cuddle up beside her. At her other side, her husband leans in to kiss her forehead and takes her hands in his.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, expression tender while he runs his thumb over her knuckles.

“All the better for seeing the two of you,” She replies, shifting to sit up and Alistair quickly moves to help prop her up against the pillows. “I was getting lonely up here.”

Rosie has wedged herself between them now, head resting in her mother’s lap. She’s already dozing off. Yana smiles, gently running her fingers through her daughter’s wavy hair.

“What’s gotten her so tired?”

Alistair grins sheepishly, the way he always does when he’s got something to hide and shrugs unhelpfully. “Beats me. You know what she’s like, can fall asleep standing up.”

Yana nods, now tracing the slight taper of Rosie’s ear. It had been a surprise to see it when she was born, but a very welcome one. Just subtle enough to not be overtly noticeable but still a reminder of who she comes from. The only thing she seems to have inherited from herself, along with the same expressive, black-brown eyes. Everything else is him; warm skin dusted with freckles, the line of her nose and the auburn tone of her hair.

Now that she thinks about it, even the shape of her ear is uncannily like his. Perhaps slightly longer.  _Strange…_

“Should I put her to bed?” He murmurs, rousing her from her meditation by slipping an arm around her shoulders, pressing their foreheads together. Smiling, Yana reaches up to touch his face and shakes her head.

“No, leave her. I could do with the company.”

He nods, turning to kiss her palm before reluctantly drawing away. “Do you need anything?”

Yana looks thoughtfully between them, then shakes her head again. She has everything she ever needed or wanted right here.

Except perhaps the tarts.


	3. 3 (INQUISITION SPOILERS)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kiss in a dream. (Alistair/Surana)
> 
> Bad ending to Here Lies The Abyss; you've been warned.   
> I hate myself too, dw.

Sunlight filters through a splay of withered branches, stretched out across the dusky winter sky above them. It catches flecks of gold in deep amber; making them glow like embers and the gaze fixed on her just as warm.

Rough fingers brush against her cheek, no longer shy and halting as they once were in another life. Instead they trace a well-worn path, over old scars that sit shallow in her skin like chips in marble. Drop to her chin and pull her in close, a smile pressed against her mouth that never fails to make her feel like they’re the only two in the world.

It lingers, soft and gentle. But it’s bittersweet; yet another goodbye rather than a prelude to more and the ache she feels when he draws away is as keen and sharp as a blade in her heart.

“I can’t stay.” He murmurs, nudging her cheek with his nose. She shakes her head, insistent. Claps a hand around the one still cupping her face and grips it tightly.

“Just a little longer. Please.”

“I can’t. I have to go.”

She sinks her nails into the flesh, as if hoping to anchor him there.

“ _Stay._ ”

But her pleas are of no use; they never are. Without drawing blood or leaving a single mark, he slips out of her grasp like vapour. She closes her eyes, tears running a trail down her face that’s brushed away with a delicate swipe of his thumb.

“Don’t cry, love. I’ll be back again.”

She nods faintly, reaching out to touch his hand one last time. But there’s nothing. She’s alone and when she opens her eyes, the sky has turned dark and empty.

She’ll wait here tomorrow, as she does every night; the Fade now the only place where he will always return to her as he promised.


	4. 4 (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: kiss on the neck. (Alistair/Surana)
> 
> Slightly spicy, reworked from something older I'd written.  
> Maybe there are certain side-effects from the Joining the Wardens neglect to mention to their new recruits...?

He’s sat sharpening his blade, when he’s distracted by slender arms around his shoulders and her face buried in the crook of his neck.  
  
“You smell good.” She murmurs, breathing in deeply through her nose as if to further the point. He doesn’t see how; he’s not been long out of his gambeson and yet to change out of the shirt he’s been sweating in all day.  
  
“Alright, I get the hint.” He chuckles, affectionately bumping her head with his chin. “I was planning on having a wash after this anyway.”  
  
She shakes her head, nuzzling him insistently. “No, I mean it.” She breathes in again, dragging her mouth over the side of his neck and his hand stops dead in its tracks. “You smell like leather and oil and metal,” She says in a breathy whisper, nipping gently at his earlobe. “Like a  _man_.”  
  
Blushing furiously, his eyes nervously flick across the camp to check that no-one’s watching. They’re not, far away enough that they can’t hear what she’s saying nor see the effect it’s already having on him.  
  
He slowly sets aside the whetstone and his sword, turning to look at her over his shoulder. She smiles, eyes dark and heavy lidded with want. A finger trails over his jaw as she leans in, kissing him slowly and he can’t help but give a little whimper when she slides her tongue into his mouth.  
  
“What’s gotten into you?” He mumbles against her mouth when she draws away, though just barely. When he thinks about it, she’s been a lot more hands-on than usual lately. Not that he minds, but she’s not normally this forward in front of the others. A kiss here and there, sitting in his arms around the fire, sure. But this is different.  
  
“Nothing.” And yet there is an urgency in her voice that tells him otherwise. “I just…can’t help myself around you.”  
  
She slips her hand down the front of his shirt, drawing her nails over the skin of his chest in loose circles, making him shiver pleasantly. “Is that so bad?”  
  
He bites his lip, shaking his head slowly as he sinks against her chest and closes his eyes. “I…no. It’s not.”  
  
“Then, will you come to bed?” She purrs, working her way up his neck with suckling kisses.  
  
Like she even has to ask.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: (kiss) in the snow & missing the other. (Alistair/Surana)
> 
> Another King!Alistair and Mistress Surana one. Fluff!

He paced, heavy boots making a deep trench in the thick blanket of snow that had settled overnight.

It’d been a hard ride from the palace, but he refused to miss this just for the sake of a little bad weather.

His manservant, Henri, had been less than enthusiastic about the whole ordeal and was now watching him with a frown while stood with the horses, huddled close to the beasts in the hopes of stealing even a little of their warmth. Cursing the chill that seeped through his gloves, Henri trudged over and stilled him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll walk yourself right through the ground, going on like that, Sire.”

The king smiled weakly, bowing his head in slight embarrassment. Henri gave him a reassuring pat before dropping his hand, looking out over the horizon. The night was drawing in rapidly, the snow deceptively deep and hiding the treacherous, uneven terrain beneath.

He supposed he’d be anxious too. Even so, standing out here wasn’t going to make things move any faster.

“Perhaps it’d be best if we waited _inside_ the cottage, your Majesty?” He suggested, teeth chattering without his meaning to though it furthered his point rather aptly.

But Alistair didn’t hear him, back turned and staring intensely at something across the field.

Henri followed his gaze, but could see nothing to explain the wide grin spread across the young king’s face. He frowned, about to question it until the muffled sound of galloping hooves carried on the wind and if he squinted, he could just about make out a blue clad figure mounted on a white horse approaching.

With alarming quickness for a man dressed in heavy leathers and furs, Alistair ran ahead to meet them, Henri letting out an irritated groan before reluctantly giving chase, feeling his cloak becoming heavy and wet when it trailed through the slush left in his king’s wake.

The rider had stopped half-way, dropped from their horse and bounded towards them. Close enough now that he can see it was indeed Lady Surana, stumbling across the snow with arms outstretched.

He fell back to allow them a little privacy, smiling inwardly when she was scooped up into the king’s arms and spun around.

“What took you so long?” Alistair murmured into her shoulder, Yana laughing and shaking her head. She drew away a little, holding his face in her hands.

“Just several feet of snow falling on the entire Arling overnight. Nothing serious.”

He grinned, staring up at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. She proved him wrong by leaning in to kiss him; hot and hard against the cold of a year spent apart.

His hands slid lower down her back beneath her cloak, thinking himself inconspicuous until he was suddenly startled into almost dropping her when Henri cleared his throat loudly.

“If you’re both _quite_ done?” He said, shooting his master a pointed look and met with a sheepish grin as he set the Warden-Commander gently on her feet.

Sighing wearily, he pulled his sodden cloak around himself tightly and jerked his head for them to follow him towards the shabby little building that for reasons beyond his understanding, they’d deemed ideal for such a clandestine meeting.

Behind him, Alistair slipped an arm around Yana’s shoulder while she led her mare by the reins alongside them.

“I really have missed you,” He said softly, turning to kiss her forehead. She smiled, leaning into him and let her free arm snake itself around his waist.

“I know. We have so much to catch up on…”

A wry smirk on his lips, he stopped her and pulled her in close.

“Better not waste any more time, then.”

Henri narrowed his eyes as he could no longer hear footsteps behind him and confirmed his suspicions when he glanced over his shoulder to find the two entwined once again.

“Your Majesty, I really must insist-!” He began, but found his protest cut off by the king’s finger raised to ask for just one more minute. Defeated, Henri turned away and shook his head.

“He’s giving me a raise after this.” He muttered.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: (drabble) The skirt is supposed to be this short. (Alistair/Surana)
> 
> lmao I can't write drabbles to save my life. But this was fun!!

“What do you think?”

Alistair can’t find the words, opens his mouth but can only let out a dry sob, trying and failing to look anywhere but her bare thighs as she twirls around enthusiastically again; the thin, clingy fabric of her new robes leaving incredibly little to the imagination. He swallows hard.

“Don’t you think it’s a little…?” He finally manages, thickly.

She glances down at herself, a wicked grin spread across her face as she sees him blushing. “The skirt is  _supposed_  to be this short.”

He stares at her incredulously.

“It’s hot in Tevinter?”

“But  _we’re_  not  _in_  Tevinter.” He mumbles, head bowed and not daring to look up when she stands right in front of where he’s sat, the leather of her tall boots creaking while she shifts her weight on one hip.

“You don’t like it?” She asks softly, tilting his head back with a finger under his chin. He bites his lip, feeling himself redden even more under her gaze.

“No, I…just seems a bit  _impractical_.”

She looks down at him thoughtfully, leans in close to whisper in his ear and his eyes can’t help but drift to her chest, where the neckline is cut obscenely low.

“I think they’re incredibly practical.” She murmurs, reaching for his hand. “In fact, why don’t I  _show_  you?”

 _It’d be rude to refuse_ , he muses. He leaves his resolve and pride behind, letting himself be led away from camp while staring longingly at her backside.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: (drabble) Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats. (Alistair/Surana)
> 
> And again, I cannot write drabbles. This was also a challenge, but I think I succeeded??  
> Wardens being nerds as per usual.

Yana is lying on her front by the opening of her tent, the coins from the Wardens’ purse spread out on the blanket beneath her while she counts them out. It’s a tidy sum, having sold off a job lot of scavenged gear in the town they passed through earlier in the day.

Dirty business, but needs must. Like replenishing the camp’s supply of ale, which Alistair has taken upon himself to sample all evening. Just to be sure.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much money in my life,” She says thoughtfully, rolling a sovereign between her fingers. “Hardly know what to do with it.”

“Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats.” Alistair offers, now on his third pint.

“ _Goats_.” Yana repeats flatly, slowly looking up from her hoard with a bemused frown.

“ _No_  goats.” He reminds her, nudging her side with the toe of his boot, grinning when she bumps him back with her hip.

“That’s…oddly specific.”

“I have my reasons.” He mutters darkly, swigging from his tankard. Smirking, she looks at him over her shoulder.

“Do they involve yet another childhood incident where you got covered in shit somehow, perchance?”

“You have  _got_  to stop listening to me. I might actually say something important one day, then I’m really buggered.” He laughs, stumbling onto his knees to lie down beside her. She’s looking at him strangely, lips trembling and pulled thin as if struggling to hold back what she wants to say.

“I know that look.” He says, eyes narrowed. “Go on. Out with it.”

“I was going to say, it’d really  _get your goat_ , huh?” She cackles, at his pained groan and deeply offended roll of his eyes.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Surana.” He mumbles, suddenly rolling her onto her back and pinning her down with his broad chest, hands reaching for her sensitive sides. She giggles, squirming and before he can react, shoves a handful of magic-chilled coppers down the back of his shirt. He yelps, backing away; trying and failing to shake them out and forced to tear it off.  He turns to scowl at her, Yana leaning back on her elbows with a lascivious smirk.

“Why-?!” He splutters, cut off with a sharp gasp as he feels a coin drop down the back of his breeches.

“I paid you, didn’t I?”

Grimacing, he fishes the offending item out and throws it aside before bearing down on her again.

“I think you owe me a  _lot_ more than that.” He grumbles and brings the tent flap closed with a clumsy slap.

It isn’t that unusual for the two of them to disturb the rest of the camp with their antics, but the bleating is  _bizarre…_


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt taken from the super sappy fluff list!!

“Can I kiss you?”

It's an oddly shy request from her, usually so bold when it comes to him. Slips her fingers through his, turns her body away from the cold and towards him.

“ _You're_ asking _me_?”

She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I just thought, it's been a while since the first time and I don't want to push my luck.”

“Doesn't usually stop you.” He chuckles, absently warming her cold fingers by tracing circles over her knuckles with a thumb. “I thought your favourite hobby was making me blush with your brazen flirting.”

She smiles, dropping her gaze for a moment before looking back up at him in earnest.

“Saying is very different from doing.”

Doesn't he know it. That he didn't run and hide after giving her the rose was a miracle in and of itself.

He nods, reaching for her other hand and moves closer.

“Doing would be nice.”

He groans when she starts smirking, a suggestive wiggle of her brows at his inadvertent slip of the tongue. He should know by now to be more careful around her gutter brain.

“Not like _that!_ ” He whines, huffing in mock indignation as she giggles at him from behind her hand. “You're terrible.”

“Maybe,” She admits, grinning, pressing closer still. “Does that mean you've changed your mind?”

“I think I can forgive you, just this once.”

He cranes down, Yana turning her head to catch his mouth with her fingers curled around the nape of his neck. Sweet and slow, he smiles into it. The nerves are still there, but it's more out of excitement than fear now.

To be asked, to be _wanted_...

He doesn't draw away, pressing their foreheads together and the butterflies in his stomach swoop when she gently brushes her nose against his.

Oh, he does want her.

“Ask me again.” He murmurs, daring to be bold and lets his hands rest on her waist- though still above her cloak. He's not a cad. She grins, pulling herself up to whisper in his ear.

“Can I kiss you, Alistair?”

“Please.”

 


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micro-prompts: Falling

It hits hard and fast, once she realises it.

One close call and she knows it's not just the fear of being the only Warden left that makes her heart rattle in her chest. That when he finally opens his eyes, the relief is so overwhelming she can't help but cry and kiss his bloodied forehead.

Even then, he's still worried about her; almost crushed to pieces by an ogre and definitely with more than a few broken bones, he reaches up to touch her face, to comfort _her_.

“Hey. I’m not dead yet,” He croaks, managing a lopsided grin that leans a little macabre, a red trickle running down the corner of his mouth. “Takes a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

She gives a short laugh, pressing his hand to her cheek tight. “Had me fooled.”

“Nah, I just fancied a lie down.”

She rolls her eyes in despair but she's smiling too- he has a habit of making her do that- Maker willing, he'll be around to keep them spinning in her head forever.

 


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micro-prompts: Empty

He may not be much of a rogue, but he can't help but feel a little excited as he creeps through camp that night. Could be the hunger making him feel giddy, stomach roaring at him after their meagre supper and keeping him from sleep until it's sated. It's not been this bad since he first took the Joining and he's all but salivating when he finds the oilcloth sack where the camp's ration sits, unwittingly awaiting its’ nighttime raider.

He knows exactly what he's after; the last of the honey cake they'd bought on passing through the nearby village on market day. It'll be a bit stale by now, but it doesn't matter. It's sweet and fatty and he needs it because bruised apples and hardtack just won't cut it tonight.

He digs around, a little frantic when he can't find it. Perhaps it's gone to the bottom. No matter, squashed cake is still good cake. He straightens up and unthinkingly gives it a good shake in his desperation, making tankards and bowls clank around loudly.

He tenses at the noise, though a furtive glance over each shoulder tells him he's not been rumbled yet. Good. Carefully, he sets it back down and reaches in once more. His fingers brush over the cloth it's wrapped in and he snatches it up triumphantly-

“What?! No!”

The bag hangs limp in his hands, empty save for a scant few crumbs and the scent of honey and butter still lingering. Uselessly, he turns it inside out but still nothing. He feels many things at that moment; despair, grief…

But above all, betrayal.

He screws up the muslin in his fist, eyes drifting towards the other Warden's tent, lips thin. The light's still on.

Determined, he stomps over and his suspicions are confirmed when he sees the greasepaper and string strewn about on the ground just outside. She must have been in quite the hurry.

He crouches at the opening and with a flourish, he whips it open, finger pointed at the accused.

“Aha!!”

Guilty, her eyes dart between him, the remains of the cake clutched in her hands and the muslin hanging from his.

“I can explain-” She says thickly through her current mouthful, quickly dropping the cake into her lap and palms raised like a thief caught red-handed.

“I'd like to see you try,” He scoffs, shuffling closer on his knees. “You promised you'd wa-”

But he stops mid sentence. Because it's now just occurred to him that he's come barging into her tent while she's only dressed in her shift. Her very _thin_ shift.

He blinks fast, unsure of where to look. What was he even here for, again...?

“I'm sorry,” She sighs, brushing her hair away over her shoulder and he snaps his head up to stare at the ceiling of the tent the second he catches a glimpse of her chest through the fabric. “You're right, I should have waited to share it. I was just so hungry and it's all I could think of…”

“Oh, no!” He says, dismissively waving his hand, eyes still averted. “It's fine. I-I didn't even want it, actually.”

“Really.” Her tone is flat and he only has to imagine a thick, dark brow is arched at him. “Just felt like stumbling into my tent in the middle of the night for no reason, then?”

He reddens at that, if it's even possible to blush any harder. "No, I-!”

Scowling, he turns to look at her when he hears giggling. Laughing behind her hand and with the cake proffered in the other.

“Did you know even your ears go red when you get all shy like this? It's rather cute.”

He says nothing, petulantly snatching the cake from her hand and stuffs it into his mouth in one go. It's just about small enough he manages to not choke too hard as it goes down, eyes watering a little.

Still giggling, she leans over to brush the crumbs from his mouth with a thumb before pecking him on the cheek.

“Maybe I'll take the whole thing next time, if this is what I have to look forward to.”

_Next time?_

He stares at her, a little dazed as she keeps her face close to his. Another smile and he thinks she's about to lean in again, her hand on his chest, but instead she shoves him back outside and he falls flat on his arse as the tent is closed.

He's not entirely sure what just happened there. But come the morning, he's suddenly rather keen to press on to the next town. When asked why, he just mutters something about market day coming around again soon and no-one can quite figure out why it makes the elf beside him look so pleased with herself.

 


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micro-prompts: Trembling hands

The first sign of there being something wrong is when she wakes and can no longer feel his arms around her, no warm reassurance through the night.

The second is seeing his broad frame hunched next to her, curled in tight on himself and shoulders heaving with every hushed sob. Hands clenched tight in his hair, knuckles turning white.

She sits bolt upright, ignoring the chill biting into her bare skin as she moves to crouch in front of him, gently pulling his hands away. They shake in her grasp, eyes wide as he peers up at her through his fingers.

“I’m here,” She soothes, reaching out to hold his face and brushes his cheek dry with a thumb. “I’m here. It’s alright, love.”

He swallows thickly, eventually nodding as he seems to come to.

“It was so real,” He murmurs, letting himself be drawn against her chest. “I thought-”

“I know.” She says softly, running her fingers through his hair and counting the breaths like he always does for her when she wakes him in a cold sweat. “But you won’t lose me, not ever.”

Calmed, his breathing settles and the grip on her wrist loosens a little. He’s stopped shaking. She just hopes it’s a promise she can keep, that he’ll never be left to suffer these nightmares alone and at that thought, the hand in his hair wavers slightly.


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micro-prompts: Don't leave

A kiss pressed to the nape of his neck, warm body wrapped around him. He smiles broadly into his pillow and pretends to stay asleep, enjoying the familiarity of their old routine far too much.

Her kisses trail up to his jaw, finding the corner of his mouth and he can’t help but laugh as she peppers his face with light pecks, calling his bluff.

He rolls her onto her back, his love giggling and smiling up at him as he leans over her. Arms wound around his neck, she pulls him in for another kiss; slow and meaningful.

“Stay,” She murmurs as they part, fingers tracing his temple. “Don’t leave.”

He’s about to make some quip about the palace likely already sending out a search party for their erstwhile king, but thinks better of it on seeing the sad look in her eyes. He doesn’t want to; it’d been hard enough to tear himself away the last time and despite every force working to keep them apart, he’s back in her arms after the storm outside waylaid his return to the capital.

As if by divine intervention, a great roll of thunder sounds and he knows it’ll at least be another day before he gets an angry missive delivered by a sodden courier demanding his return.

_They’ll have to break down the door first_ , he thinks and promises her he’s not going anywhere with a torrent of kisses.


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cliché prompts from Tumblr: kissing in the rain and getting soaked

She barely remembers how she came to be stood in the middle of the field. It should worry her more, to be lured away from camp by a feeling but it's so familiar to her, she can't shake it. When the sky begins to darken and the air turns still, she understands. She's always had a way of knowing, even in the tower, but out here it's harder to ignore.

As if reaching out to an unseen companion, she stretches her palms out in front of her and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.

It's so close now, the rumble of the thunder reverberating in her chest, anticipation pulling every muscle in her body tight. The pressure builds at the back of her skull, almost unbearable until it's released with an almighty clap and bright white light pierces the clouds. Then the rain falls, a heavy curtain over the land that immediately soaks her to the skin and she smiles and laughs and gathers it in her hands, watching the droplets splashing in her palms with sheer delight.

She throws it into the air, overcome with the joy of rediscovering that which has been denied her for so many years. Restraint has never been her strong point but even she learned as a matter of survival, to hold back pieces of yourself to stop them taking the whole. But the walls are gone now, instead an endless expanse of gold surrounding her and bending at her fingertips as she reaches out on either side as far as her arms can manage.

She assumed these moments would be few and far between as their journey progressed, her marvelling at the world beyond the tower quickly turning to resentment at having to wade through yet another muddy trail. But every now and then, something takes her breath away and she's reminded that though it comes at a heavy cost, she is free.

Free to live

"Yana? What are you doing out here, you'll catch a chill!"

and love.

She doesn't even realise he's stood behind her at first, so lost in thought and sight and scent.

Turning around, she finds him out of armor and holding a cloak over his head though it does very little to shelter him from the downpour, his hair flattened against his forehead and shirt rapidly turning translucent the longer he's stood out here. Alistair stares at her, sodden and bemused, with that little quirk of his brow she finds so endearing.

"Why are you still out he-?" He repeats, cut off by her grabbing his face and kissing him suddenly. He grins dumbly, flushed from his chest to the tips of his ears. She half expects steam to start rising from him, he's so clearly hot under the collar.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Do you care?" She asks, still beaming as she watches a raindrop run down the long, slightly crooked bridge of his nose.

"Not really." He laughs, letting her pull him in again and throws the cloak aside after a moment to wrap himself around her instead.


End file.
